


emptiness to fill.

by Yui_Miyamoto



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on LiveJournal, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-27
Updated: 2012-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27361333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yui_Miyamoto/pseuds/Yui_Miyamoto
Summary: Tamaki wakes up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep but finds someone else too is having the same problem…
Relationships: Ootori Kyouya/Suoh Tamaki
Kudos: 1





	emptiness to fill.

**Disclaimer – Ouran Host Club doesn’t belong to me.  
  
**  
Cupping his hand over Tamaki’s right cheek, Kyouya’s eyes deeply searched through Tamaki’s, who was staring up innocently and confused. The usual emptiness between those eyes contrasted the hand that burned Tamaki from the inside.  
Leaning forward, Kyouya whispered, “When all is done, I’ll have to let you go. And when that happens, it’ll be as natural as the day my father said to keep my enemy closer than a friend.”  
  
  
Tamaki’s eyes suddenly opened and a tear slipped from the side as he gasped. He pushed himself up suddenly and peered around the empty bedroom. The silk blanket made a shh shh sound as he crumpled it in between his clenched fists. He looked around distraught as the wind blew lightly through the open glass window.  
He sneezed, looking down at his naked chest. “Did I strip again in my sleep?”  
His flushed cheeks became hotter as he took another long, deep breath, shaking his head in disbelief.  
Blinking, he’d forgotten his dream and he was desparately trying to remember it, but it was of no use as his eyes helplessly explored the darkness. He slowly got up from the white bed with a single, simple thought: “I have to see Kyouya.”  
Overhead, he saw the small wooden grandfather clock that his father had brought from his last trip to France. The beautiful lady coquettishly turned away from her lover and above it, the time read: 2:13am.  
  
 _Kyouya wouldn’t be awake. Maybe I should wait until he gets up for our event tomorrow._  
  
Since he couldn’t go back to sleep, he sighed, changed his clothes and left the house, asking the driver to go to Ouran instead. There was no way that he would call Kyouya at this time. They were close, but not like that. Kyouya never let him become that close no matter how hard he’d tried.  
And this left a small regret within him. Even if he could push through all kind of barriers and bend every kind of pain that connected him like a stringed puppet that his grandmother controlled and all of it led to dispersed memories of his mother, he couldn’t get through Kyouya. Even now.  
Maybe never.  
The aching grew but his smile widened as he forced all of the crunched happiness smashed with sadness back inside his soul. There wasn’t anything to be angry about anymore. There were many people to fight, but he’d never give up or show anger. Nothing would ever eat him alive.  
He promised himself no matter what happened, nothing would ever let him lose himself. Again.  
Not to sorrow. Not to apathy. Not to denial or self-hatred. Never again.  
  
 _I will own this school someday. Grandmother will not get mad at me. She’ll believe this since she knows I don’t lie. I’m only here to prepare for our last day as a Host Club._  
  
When he positioned himself to get out of the car, the driver sat at the entrance patiently as Tamaki nodded his head. “I can do it myself.”  
He opened the door and closed it behind him. As he walked, his leather shoes tapped against the stone steps mixed with cement. The wind blew and the hem of his golden sweater flapped gently. He took a deep breath and felt the crisp air enter his body.  
It reminded him somehow of his house in France and his mother waiting for him to say goodbye when he left for school. It was always like this: Twilight, a home far enough from the city so that no one could recognize them.  
Slowly, he turned the key into the school and walked up the lonely staircase. He caressed the wooden banister with his fingers, a familiar friend’s touch that had always caught all his emotions when he couldn’t show his real ones. How many times had he clenched the railings when he smiled and when he cried to himself after everyone had gone away?  
As he approached the music room, the door was already open a crack with a tranquil glow of light coming out of it. He stopped and because he’d been immersed in his own thoughts, he finally caught the soft flow of music floating away from the room.  
“The shamisen?”  
  
 _Who could be here at this hour?_  
  
His heart began to pump faster, pounding quicker and quicker and squeezing itself in anticipation. He lightly pushed the door to open it a hand’s span worth as he caught his breath, his mouth opening in complete astonishment.  
Tamaki had forgotten he’d gotten a petition to soundproof the room so that all the noise (aka fangirl squealing) from the host club wouldn’t disturb the other students in the building. So, the sound of the shamisen penetrated his whole body, piercing his ears and straight into his chest when he stood at the threshold of the music room.  
But his heart stopped as he saw Kyouya wearing a deep-coloured purple kimono with a red underlining and his hands extended, one pointing towards the sky as another pointed diagonally towards the ground. The white obi held his small waist and made the line of his whole body more poignant.  
His face was more handsome, almost like a statue he’d seen in one of the European museums he’d gone to. Without glasses, somehow, he looked more regal as his profile pointed towards the sky.  
In the next instant, Kyouya circled his right hand over his face, keeping the left hand still pointing towards the ground and his face turned towards the ground. Sweat poured from Kyouya’s forehead as he concentrated his whole body in making the slow movement seem as if he’d been dancing his whole life.  
  
“Sensual…” Tamaki mumbled as he walked towards Kyouya without thinking that he’d interrupt him. His lips wanted to kiss the statue to make sure it was warm and real, and not a dream in the middle of the night.  
  
Kyouya dropped his fan and fell to the ground, closing his eyes in frustration.  
  
 _Why did I ever think I could do this? What am I trying to prove?_  
  
“I want to see what my mother saw in my father. I know it has nothing to do with me because I’m proof of that love…but why…Until now, why am I not satisfied with knowing just that?”  
Kyouya never forgot those words as he walked down the steps and found Tamaki crying secretly one evening. He’d taken a short nap in one of the rooms before going home and found Tamaki holding onto the railing, his knuckles turning white and his head hanging in defeat over something he couldn’t understand.  
  
He thought for years of what Tamaki meant, and all he could think of was so obvious to Tamaki yet so obscure to him: Passion. It was always the line that made him light-years away from the shining quality that made Tamaki who he was.  
Finally, after months of practicing, this was what he wanted to answer that idiot: _Maybe so much of it was born into you that those who lack it will thirst longingly that they’ll try to find a way to capture you.  
  
And like everyone else, I want you, but I have too much pride that I have to pretend that it doesn’t matter at all, even when I realized after I met you that  
  
I was killing myself from being aware of all the emptiness I was afraid to fill. _  
  
Tamaki took a hold of Kyouya’s face and Kyouya coughed, half-conscious from dizziness. It was then that his body reminded him how many hours he’d been there practicing, becoming limp and strength disappearing the more that Tamaki’s hands pressed onto his face.  
“Is that really you, Kyouya? That was so beautiful! How come you never told anyone you could dance like that?”  
“I don’t know how to dance.”  
“But...wait, what were you doing right now?”  
Kyouya turned his face away as his cheeks felt like Tamaki’s fingers were scorching his skin. “I was practicing for our last day.”  
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping right now? You’re so warm…”  
Kyouya blinked his eyes sleepily. “I wanted to know how you felt like. Just once before we part.”  
“What?” Tamaki held him close as Kyouya slipped so easily into his arms.  
“This is what it must feel like.”  
“I don’t understand, Kyouya…”  
Kyouya closed his eyes and smiled peacefully up at him for the first time since they’d met. At this, Tamaki closed his mouth and blinked his eyes, and without knowing, tears were coming down and falling onto Kyouya’s face. He didn’t understand why he was here or why he was crying.  
All he had known was that image of Kyouya looking down at him with downcast eyes, loving him in glances but never touching him because he thought the darkness inside of his heart should never touch the light inside of Tamaki’s. All he knew was that his heart said to come here quickly and he’d found him dancing with a fan.  
  
With all the emotion he’d never shown to anyone in his entire life…  
With all the confidence that destroyed the feigned calmness he kept to himself when he’d envied those who could give everything without wanting anything back in return…  
With all the affection that he never thought existed inside someone like him…  
  
The space in his heart made him hate himself for all he lacked, but Tamaki and the host club family made him realize that there was no such thing as emptiness.  
  
  
Passion, once you opened it, was limitless.  
  
  
He couldn’t open his eyes to look at Tamaki before he slipped into a deep sleep, but he smiled wider than before as Tamaki brushed the hair away from his face, looking down at him tenderly.  
  
 _Even when we’re far apart, and marry other people…  
Kyouya, don’t you know you were the first one who cared about me so much that I could look to the sky and learn to find all the dreams I thought I’d lost?_  
  
Tamaki leaned over Kyouya and held him closer to his chest, his heart pounding against Kyouya’s ear.  
  
“Why do you always give up before trying to fight for what you really want, Kyouya?”  
Tamaki shook as he cried harder and harder. Tamaki kissed his lips and Kyouya did not react, sleeping soundly. “I’ll pretend that we naturally let go, but I couldn’t ever live without you, Kyouya. I’ll find a way, like I always have, to bind you to me.”  
  
When Kyouya finally woke up, Tamaki pretended to come back into school, that he’d never come that night and saw Kyouya dance.  
“Good morning, Mom.”  
And Kyouya sighed at the lovely dream, smiling to himself as he laid still on the silver couch.  
  
 _Of course, Tamaki would never say those things to me no matter how much I wished for them._  
  
“Good morning,” he greeted back, but then, he lifted up the golden sweater that was lying over his body like a blanket as he got up and shot his eyes towards Tamaki, who calmly went over to the piano to flawlessly practice the last song he’d play for Kyouya for a long time…  
  
 **Owari./The End.**

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired from watching a lot of Ouran and for my mentor Seshat-sama.  
> There is something about Kyouya that gets my blood going and I guess, there are things I get about him but there are things that I really don’t get about Kyouya either.  
> As for Tamaki, how can someone with passion know what it is to live without it while Kyouya wants it but won’t act on it, however, he is not without it though he thinks he lacks it.  
> I love this couple so much…
> 
> Thank you always for your support.
> 
> Love,  
> Yui


End file.
